


Seven Schoolboys

by Crookykanks



Category: The Books of Ampany - Martha Mitchell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-02 15:38:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4065313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crookykanks/pseuds/Crookykanks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sexual history of the prince, as he tries to figure out what he wants in a boyfriend. Minor appearances by several other characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steff the Smooth

Steff the Smooth

It took nearly three months after Rye for Dev to feel ready again. Although he told Nottie he’d love her company at Warren Welch’s house party, she was smart enough to beg off at the last minute. So with the knowledge that she’d have tea ready back at the palace if he wasn’t successful, Dev sauntered purposefully through the back garden, out the concealed gate, and into Southside.

The party was standard, really. No one terribly interesting or new had come, and Dev definitely spent five minutes making certain that Rye wasn’t amongst the attendees before rubbing the distraction rune off of his sleeve. He spent the next half an hour sullenly nursing a drink in the corner, watching his classmates dance in the middle of the room, sneaking kisses when they were too drunk to remember who might be watching. Elena Ridgley and Willy Horst were caught together by Elena’s ex-boyfriend Robin, which caused a commotion on the couch for several minutes. Distracted, Dev didn’t notice the person sitting down beside him.

“You’re usually more cheerful.”

“Fuck! I didn’t hear you,” Dev gasped, hand flying to the back of his neck awkwardly. Steff grinned, leaning back against the wall. 

“Really lost in thought. Huh. Must be something big,” Steff said in the leading sort of way that Dev allowed only with Nottie and his family. He shrugged absently. “Come on, you can talk.”

“I came here to stop being in my head, actually,” Dev answered. “I’m just having a hard time of it.” 

“Too stuffy in here,” replied Steff, nodding his head vaguely as he glanced around the room. His eyes stopped in the direction of the couch, and Dev found himself glancing up, too, in time to see Elena punch Robin in the jaw. “And about to get worse. Want to go somewhere quieter?”

That was a terrible idea. Steff had a reputation, and Dev had a long list of reports to prove it. But he also had long, lovely fingers, and a pretty good chest. And, presumably, enough experience to know a good time. Nottie’s voice in his ear said “You’ll regret this one.” Steff brushed silky blond curls back over his head, turning a subtle grin Dev’s way.

“Where’d you have in mind?”

Steff lived just down the street, of course. The rich ones usually did. Southside was too small to host too many families. Dev kept his gaze as eastward as he could, out to the water, so as to not catch sight of the Smedley house by accident. Nottie was already giving his conscience grief. He didn’t need the thought of the Smedleys crowding his head and muddling his arousal either. When Steff turned up the walkway to the front door, he placed his hand, long fingers gently curled, at the base of Dev’s back. Dev allowed them both to pretend that the sole purpose of this was to lead the path. That the hand, still curled, still cupped, could then slide along his ass, down between his thighs, and press softly there, that was lucky coincidence. A natural next step in the process. Steff led them around to the back, onto a pier, where Dev felt the pull of magic at his feet.

“This will be plenty private. It has a better view than the house, too,” Steff murmured. “I’ve always liked the covered bench at the end of the deck.”  
Dev didn’t see the bench until they were almost beside it, as the pier dropped down a few steps to a platform that lay almost even with the calm surface of the water. It was a very pretty view, with the moon and stars glittering at his feet and over their heads. Steff’s hand dipped between his legs again. That the touch felt good made Dev nearly as excited as the physical sensation itself. He took the last step to the bench, resting his hands on the back of it, while Steff’s arms encircled him from behind. 

“Don’t want to kiss me?”

“You’ve had plenty of chance if you wanted that,” Dev replied, not unkindly.

“Saving your sweetness for a relationship?” Steff teased. Dev chose not to answer, laying his hand over Steff’s on his stomach instead. He used his fingertips to stroke the back of Steff’s hand gently. A warm wetness on the back of his neck told him that Steff didn’t need an answer. Just as well. Dev didn’t want to think about relationships anymore tonight. Rye was still sore in his head and his heart and sometimes in his ass. He’d gone tonight to get away from that. A night on a private pier with the Royal Academy’s richest playboy was about as good as he could hope for. He shifted his weight to push his backside against Steff’s arousal, and a cool spot was left on his stomach when Steff’s fingers dropped down into Dev’s pants. Dev undid the buttons himself, thinking that might be easier.

Oh fuck.

Steff’s fingers knew what to do, much better than Dev’s had yet or than he remembered Rye’s doing that one night. 

Oh fuck.

A tickle underneath that made him twitch, a long pull that stole a moan from Dev’s voice, just enough pressure at the base to make his eyes cross briefly, Steff could keep him on an edge that Dev tumbled over clumsily on his own. He fought to keep his eyes away from his knuckles straining on the bench, looking out at the stars and sea instead. The calm was a good contrast, and the view was very pretty. 

“You take?”

He hadn’t meant to. He preferred using his mouth. But the view.

“Yes.”

He even helped nudge his pants down, leaned over further to ease the way. Steff’s fingers stayed wrapped around him, pulling and stroking as though he could do this in his sleep. Maybe he could. Suddenly that was a bonus, as the transition was smooth and this… this was pretty good, actually. It had been too rough before, dry and full of the sort of friction and tearing pressure that left him hurt and dirty feeling. But this pressure, the gentler rocking, the filling, wet, something was hitting better places this time. It was good to know that this could feel nice. Dev spread his feet a little wider and leaned over more. 

Fuck yes.

He was moving faster now, hitting a spot somewhere up in there that Dev couldn’t describe, and it felt fantastic. Steff’s fingers were holding him tight around the base, not letting him spill, while his other hand balanced on Dev’s lower back, holding hims down and still enough and in just the right spot to bump, bump, push, push, right in that place that made him throb into the tight grip. It wasn’t that he particularly liked giving up the control, but it was fucking nice to not have to do any of the work for a change. He held on as long as he could, and came with a jolt instead of the usual shudder when he lost it. An extra warmth up in him let him know with some satisfaction that he’d surprised Steff into losing his control, too. That was supposed to be difficult. The fingers dropped away and the pressure slid back out of him with a series of shuddering gasps that brought a smirk to Dev’s lips. He wasn’t sure if it was his own, or Nottie in his head controlling his face for him. Maybe he’d tell her after all. 

“You’re… pretty good,” Steff breathed. “Want…?”

“Thanks,” Dev replied, doing his best to keep his knees steady, while he straightened his pants again. He mostly succeeded with the bench’s help. “But I should probably be getting back before I’m missed. I have lessons on Saturdays, too. See you around. Thanks for the scenery, by the way. Good touch.”

And pushing off from the bench, he walked back up the pier, his pride in tact enough to keep his legs steady the whole half-hour’s journey back to his room. When he laid down in his bed and closed his eyes, he saw only the stars.


	2. Victor the Vanisher

Two weeks later, Dev met Victor Ward. A few years older, and done with his schooling in Northpointe, Victor was new in Kingston. He was staying with his cousin, who was fond of hosting large, messy parties in the family’s large, empty house. Dev met him rather unexpectedly when Victor stumbled backwards out of his borrowed room, shocked that two naked strangers were entangled on his bedsheets. Taking pity, Dev led him out back for some air and a glass of water. A minute of fresh air turned into an hour of chatting, then another when the subject turned to old dates and crushes, and somehow became fifteen minutes of snogging that Dev couldn’t remember who initiated. It was good snogging, though, the sort that wasn’t too wet or too pushy, but was kept interesting with tongues and sweet with moments where they both pulled back to look at each other with smiles. Dev would have been happy to go further that night, but Victor’s bedroom was otherwise occupied, and the palace seemed too far away and too personal an invitation. When Dev started to leave, however, Victor worked up the nerve to ask if he had plans on Tuesday evening.  
It took some rearranging, but Dev made sure he was free for dinner. 

Nottie guffawed at him all afternoon while he changed clothes again and again, silk was too fancy, cotton too casual, was his hair better messy or smoothed down? Were heels too much?

“Yes!” Nottie finally said. “You won’t want to walk in them, and from what you’ve told me I don’t think he’s tall enough to carry you. Don’t wear the heels.”

“But—“

“Nehemiah will know if you scuff them.”

He wore flat shoes. But nice leather ones, because the dressier he looked, the more assuredly this was a date.

Victor was already there when Dev arrived, in a dusty blue linen vest and brown pants that might have been tight because they were old. Dev couldn’t say he minded. Service was slow, though they only noticed once the food had come how many minutes had ticked away in their easy talk. Dev paid, though Victor tried to. (He had done the asking after all. Dev promised to let him try the next time.) The paid check and their empty plates sat between their conversation for nearly two hours afterward. Victor’s bedroom was empty this time, and another two hours were spent chatting there, plus a third that still involved their mouths, though not as many words. But by then it was almost midnight, and Dev had classes in the morning. Victor walked him home, dusty blue linen vest hanging open in the warm night air.

One date turned into another, and several, and occasionally the words “my” and “partner” were used, though Victor felt weird about “boyfriend”. Dev had never thought it sounded young before, but it did as soon as Victor mentioned so. “My date” was what Dev used for anyone who asked, which was both sufficiently casual and steady, especially before anyone in the palace had officially been introduced to him. To Dev’s shock, Pickett had no comment, at least none that she would share with him or with Nottie. Malik raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as well. Dev knew better than to go to anyone else. Nottie surmised that it was because he was older and unknown. Dev decided that was a kind enough answer to be getting on with. He said nothing of any of them to Victor, except in old stories, as though they were all friends from a distant past. This was easier than he had expected. Everything else felt like another world when they were alone together.

They spent most of Springstart together that year, the parts where Dev wasn’t needed for ceremonial purposes. A Springstart Kiss, Dev discovered, was extra good because of the excitement behind it. He kissed Victor’s thick lips, broad chest, strong thighs, and just about everything else that evening, knowing his magic class in the morning would be delayed. Victor wasn’t fabulous with his mouth, and his hands weren’t practiced, which was slightly disappointing after the tricks Dev had picked up from Steff, but it didn’t matter, really. He tried for much longer than Dev meant for him to, and he got better as they took turns sucking and massaging and screwing each other. Dev had learned quickly. Maybe Victor could, too. And it wasn’t as though sex was the most important thing.

Nottie smirked at him from over her sketchbook when he joined her in the magic classroom twenty minutes after class was supposed to start the next morning, though not as broadly as they both grinned at the bright-red Nora who stumbled in five minutes after that. 

As the new year began, Dev was very grateful to have their now-standard weekly dates at Durst’s Tea Shop set up in advance. The start of the new year was always a busy time at the palace, with Academy turnover, budget proposals, and meeting after meeting on national politics. Usually, this would have meant that Dev had more time than ever to himself, but this year marked the start of Nehemiah’s private lessons. Nehemiah’s idea of private lessons in politicking, it turned out, was dragging Dev to every meeting in the palace, to give him some idea of what the future held. A week passed with Dev flopping into bed at night, not having seen anything beyond the palace walls during the day. When Nehemiah finally gave him the day off, Dev slept until noon before waking up in a panic and racing to Durst’s. Rehearsing his apologetic speech for lateness in his head on the way over was unnecessary, however, as Victor wasn’t there. Dev sat down, claiming a table against the window to catch his breath before ordering tea for two. The tea beat Victor, and Dev was feeling quite composed again by the time it arrived, preparing quips about busy weeks and sleeping in in his mind. 

He drank his tea while the cup across from him slowly turned cold.

He ordered lunch, too, and ate it.

When he finally left, bewildered and dejected, he had been there for three hours. He went straight to Nottie’s room to take his mind off of things. She told him she’d come the next week, to give him company while he waited and meet Victor, finally.

It took Dev two hours to write an appropriately worded letter that sounded joking and unhurt, asking how Victor’s week had been and if they could formally plan on next week’s date. He sent it by courier, thinking that would be less demanding than using the house rune. 

Nehemiah started him working again, along with Nora’s lessons on the foundation runes and Pickett starting on Libaniran history, the very next morning.  
He heard back from Victor, saying that they should definitely have their usual date, four nights later.

Again he went to Durst’s, this time ordering tea for three.

Again, one cup went cold on the table.

Nottie walked him back to the palace at four in the afternoon.

This time, Dev waited for Victor to contact him, with several apologies and promises to do better in tow. Dev didn’t find the time to write back before the date was upon him again. He made it to Durst’s on time. He ordered tea for one.

No cup went cold at the table.

He left at half past two. The walk back to the palace was hazy and unfocused. It occurred to him when he entered the courtyard that he should have used a distraction rune to move through the city more easily, but by that point it didn’t matter. He took the academy stairs up, knowing they’d be pretty empty on a weekend afternoon. No one stopped him on his way back to his room, where he shut and locked the door.

A note was laying on the floor, crooked, about ten inches into the room. Thanks, Nottie, he thought as he picked it up. The seal was unbroken, but he probably wouldn’t have to tell anyone what was on the inside anyway. Apologies, an interview, Northpointe. Victor had missed it there. The Kingston spring was too warm for him already, and he talked about the mountains all the time. Dev had hoped they could hike together one day. He tossed the letter to his desk, not really caring when it missed, and flopped onto his bed. Absently, he closed his eyes and ran hands over his own body. Time to remember how to do this. A pretty face could get him up, even if it was just in his head, on the underside of closed eyelids. It was always surprisingly easy, surprisingly satisfying to pretend his fingers belonged to someone else. He wondered vaguely if it was the same for everyone, if girls did this too, if other boys pretended it was girls’ hands light and delicate, the way he was imagining the tough shoulders above him, working, straining. Like this, Victor was a faster learner than anyone had any right to be. Like this, he had Dev on edge for almost five minutes before he spilled shaking, just a little teary, wishing there was a warm, heavy, someone on top of him. 

He curled up under the covers, fully intending to sleep until dinner.


	3. Jules the Jumpy

Jules was not the prettiest boy. Dainty was the word Dev would use in the most flattering way he could manage. Skinny was Nottie’s choice. When Dev caught Nottie pointing him out to Nora, he was close enough to overhear her comment, “The frail-looking one? Is he ill?” In horror at his disappointed face, she swore not to tell Pickett or his father. Dev wouldn’t have believed she could keep things from Pickett until a month ago, but her dresses couldn’t hide her figure anymore, and Pickett had been as surprised as everyone else when Nora finally told them all as the last item on the weekly royalty meeting. 

Jules had silky black curls that played on his ears, however, twirled tantalizingly on the back of his neck. He was intelligent, too, tutoring Dev in economics twice each week, adjusting his glasses while Dev adjusted how he was sitting. The tutoring was just that for a few weeks, while Dev wondered if Jules was in any way affected by the status of his student. But then Dev had asked if Jules was coming to the party that night.

“I don’t think so,” Jules murmured. “At least, not the same one you’re attending, Your Highness, I’m sure.”

“It’s just Robin Florestine. You know him as well as I do. He’s concentrating in economics now, isn’t he?”

Jules’s eyes had widened.

“But Robin…. Those parties are…” he stammered. Dev gave him a questioning look. “Well, they aren’t… they’re about…”

“Getting screwed?”

Jules squeaked.

Dev hadn’t heard this noise from anyone in a very long time. He couldn’t help the disbelieving smile that broke over his face.

“What, you think I don’t have sex?” he asked.

“Maybe with other… with people who…you know…”

Dev laughed, which made Jules jump a little in surprise. “I’m not so picky.” Jules’ eyes went wide again behind his glasses. “Well, that’s not to say I’ll just bring anyone home. Dad would kill me. But there are plenty of nice boys around.”

Jules made a tiny choking sound that sent Dev laughing again.

“Will I see you there?” he asked. “We could walk over together if you’re headed that way.”

Something about Jules’ face made Dev think he was going to say yes, and he took a step forward, arm extended slightly to lead the way. But Jules gave another funny twitch, then spluttered, “No, no thank you, I’ll just be, I have plans to, have a good time, see you tomorrow!” and hurried out the door. 

Dev got halfway to Robin Florestine’s house, then decided he wasn’t terribly interested in the party after all. He went back to the palace and practiced his magic and his homework with Nottie for the rest of the evening. When he went to bed, he had an odd wet dream that involved silky black hair and fogged-up glasses.

They did see each other tomorrow, during the physical sciences class they shared, but only briefly. Hello’s were exchanged, but Jules didn’t meet Dev’s eyes for some reason. Dev wasn’t certain why he was bothered by this until he was laying in bed that night. When it hit him, he groaned at himself and rolled over, resigned to another dream about steamy glasses and skinny, sweaty arms.

At his tutoring two days later, Jules was fidgety until they’d completed the night’s set assignment. Something about how Dev had been smiling all evening, or the fact that he’d hardly needed help at all maybe, relaxed him enough to ask, “How was the party?”

“Didn’t end up going,” Dev answered shrugging.

“You sounded excited about it,” Jules said. The way his brow creased let his glasses slip down his nose. As he readjusted them, Dev started to grin.

“Well, it didn’t seem like anyone worth spending time with was going, so I lost interest. Company is what makes a good party, after all.”

“Is it?”

“One person can make all the difference,” replied Dev. Jules’s lower lip was quivering. Was he…? Yes, sweating very gently down the sides of his neck. That was sort of cute. 

“I didn’t know you liked boys,” Jules stammered out of nowhere.

“Do you?”

The flush in Jules’s cheeks was uneven and blotchy, and spilled down onto his neck. It shouldn’t have looked so cute. Feeling bold, Dev put his hand down on Jules’s, letting their fingers intertwine.

“You’re royalty,” Jules said.

“I know. What does that matter?”

“I… I…” His mouth was hanging open, lower lip quivering again, eyes starting to cross from the way he was staring at Dev’s lips. “I…”

Dev closed the distance. 

Jules’s lips were very wet. So was the back of his neck. But his hair was soft and his hands were gentle, and he kissed with an eager excitement that made up for the lack of technique. Their hands stayed intertwined on the floor, as they knelt beside their open textbooks, heads tilted into each other, as though they were studying how to kiss together. Jules twitched funnily when Dev bit his bottom lip, and full out jumped with another squeak when Dev slipped his tongue between those wet lips. That was cuter than it should have been too. Dev watched, waited, and when Jules made no further moves, he inched forward again.

“I should…” Jules said, scooting back and placing the books between their knees awkwardly. “Go. I should go. But…” He looked up, hunched over the texts he was desperately trying to scramble into his arms, up over his glasses, which were smudged and crooked and caught in dainty black curls. 

“See you Monday?” Jules asked breathily.

“Hope so,” Dev replied.

Closing his eyes tight, Jules shot forward to kiss Dev one more time, bumping their noses as much as their lips, then scampered out the door.

It was so much cuter than it should have been.

Dev didn’t mean to tell Nottie right away, but she dragged it out of him. He got a raised eyebrow for it, but no worse teasing than that, especially when he recounted the details.

“Do you like him?” she asked.

“I’m not sure, actually,” admitted Dev. “I might. Maybe I’m just feeling desperate or horny or something. But he’s not bad. Sweet enough. Smart. You know, all those things you keep telling me to look for in a person.”

Nottie rolled her eyes at him.

“You’ve got to admit I could do worse.”

“Oh you’ve already done worse,” Nottie laughed. “Just don’t break him.”

“He’s tougher than he looks,” Dev promised her. “I’ll be nice.”

When Jules stepped in for tutoring on Monday, Dev was sitting on his bed with Nottie’s “Be nice” ringing in his ears, and his shirt unbuttoned. It wasn’t mean. Jules flushed again immediately, Dev did have his homework out, however, and was studying, and teased Jules in the nicest possible way while he worked the first three problems. Jules responded to his questions only with “Uh-huh”s, “yeah”s, or “nah”, his mouth hanging open while he gaped at Dev’s chest the whole time. Dev liked to pretend he wasn’t affected by flattery, but he was definitely aroused after ten minutes of this.

“Doing anything else tonight?” he asked.

“Uh-h— No,” Jules corrected halfway through his response. “No I was just… I was going to turn in early, actually. No plans.”

“Tired tonight?” Dev suggested sweetly. “Ready for bed?”

He could see Jules’s throat tighten as he gulped, his glasses slipping down his nose again. He pushed them up hurriedly, shifting around in a way that Dev had definitely done before. Would be doing now, if he had anything he wanted to hide.

“If you want to take a break, we can,” he said. “This isn’t due for a few days.”

When Jules managed to look up, Dev had his wickedest grin in place, his legs open to show his erection, his shirt sliding off one shoulder.

“Stars,” Jules breathed, his mouth hanging wide open. “Yes.”

It was like getting tackled by a kitten. The kissing was extra sloppy, extra wet, but very sweet, and now each jump, each squeak (and there were several) was punctuated by a thrust of the hips that nudged Dev with a larger bulge than he would have guessed. Dev was shirtless almost at once, his hair tangled and tousled and sweaty soon after, while he and his tutor pushed their tongues together, rubbed their groins. Jules’s pants came off before his shirt was even undone, and Dev slid off the bed to kneel between his legs.

For all that Dev guessed he wouldn’t be practiced, however, Jules knew exactly what he liked. His fingers reached around Dev’s to lead them to the spots that made his hips lift off the bed, made his thighs tight and tense, made his ass jolt upward. Dev twirled his fingers in the hair between Jules’s legs, smiling at the unusual softness of it.

“Stars you’re pretty,” Jules breathed, his steamed glasses up on his head so he could see Dev kneeling at his arousal.

Fuck but he did like being flattered. Dev leaned forward and used his mouth instead. 

Every moan was accompanied by Jules’s hand on his neck, every touch of his tongue to that sensitive tip brought out a squeak, and Dev had to hold onto the bedframe to keep his head steady while Jules thrust into his mouth. He lasted a surprisingly long time, finally splurting out with a quiver that shook the whole bed, lifted his ass in the air. Dev took a moment to hope no one could hear them outside the door. 

“Please! Please! Your Highness!” Jules was crying. He tucked his knees up to his chest, exposing his… oh. “Please!” he moaned. Well, Dev was hard and he hadn’t done this before, and Jules probably had. Dev had always felt a little weird about… but he was going to try it eventually and this was probably a pretty good time. “Please!”

It just took one good shove, slippery wet as they both already were. OH. That was tight, that was hard, that was fucking amazing good good yes yes it didn’t seem gross anymore, no this was definitely the right call, the right thing to, yes! Jules was running hands over Dev’s chest, still half clothed to Dev’s near nudity, still shouting his begging pleas and Dev’s titles in what might have been too loud a voice. Dev would have to put spells on his door. Nora would teach him without questions. No, Nora would teach Nottie without questions, and Nottie would teach him for the stories. Jules pinching his nipple surprised him into thrusting forward into Jules’s lifted ass, and he lost it, collapsing on the skinny, silky haired boy who was clutching at his back and chest, still calling him Highness, although they’d never used that while clothed. 

Dev understood later that it was something of a fetish.

That neither of them really wanted a relationship was for the best. The sex remained very good for the rest of the school year, twice each week, louder than ever with silencing spells in place on the door. At the end of term Jules was graduated, then was gone.   
  



	4. Karlan the Quick

After a slow, happy summer and autumn, Dev was feeling emotionally restless again. He knew it was at least in part for want of a sexual partner, but sex honestly wasn’t everything, and he honestly did want to start going on dates again. An excuse to go out to Southside’s finest, at a table for two, sounded more divine every day. Even someone to hold hands with, to cuddle at night, let Nottie call him a romantic. He was lonely. Dating sounded fun.

He didn’t have much luck through the winter, however. A couple of unmemorable snogs, a rumpled bed in Southside, another in the Academy’s side of the palace, and no one wanted to go out with the prince in the sunlight. It never stopped being frustrating, how skittish the boys got when he tried to hold their hands. At least the girls had stopped trying to flirt, finally.

Eventually, just a few days after Springstart, Karlan caught his eye. Though a year younger, Karlan was tall and sturdily built, with rounded muscles that filled out his arms and chest without really defining them. He also had the clearest blue eyes, and golden curls pretty enough to rival Triss’s. The only problem was that Karlan seemed to like girls. 

Dev watched him surreptitiously for a few days, trying to decide if he was attached. It didn’t seem so. He tried to get Nottie to ask about subtly, see if she could find out more than he could by the sheer difference of her not having a clear agenda. She absolutely refused. When a heavy, exaggerated sigh of disappointment did not change her mind, he left for the library to see if Pickett would be willing to dig anything up for him. 

Pickett wasn’t there, but Karlan was, strangely enough.

“Can I help you find anything?”

Karlan stumbled to his feet from where he’d been kneeling in front of a bookcase, hand in his hair, clear blue eyes bright, and cheeks rosy pink at being caught.

“No, no, I found it, uh, sir, uh—“

“Dev,” he grinned, stepping forward, charming as he could while his heart hammered. “I go by Dev mostly. Class or pleasure?”

“Class.” Karlan’s eyes flitted back to the bookcase and his hand slipped to the back of his neck. “Well, it started out as classwork at least. I did get a little distracted. Is there a separate library for the Academy?”

“Not really,” Dev said. “Most of the relevant books are kept on the upstairs shelves, though. This tends to be where the Advisors gather to talk in the evenings.”

His eyes widened a little and he peeked over Dev’s shoulder in what seemed to be an inadvertent way. “Are they…?”

“Not here. I was looking for one of them, but it’s not important. I don’t think Advisor Randolph would mind someone coming to look at the books in any case.”

“I hope not,” Karlan laughed. “It’s for her class.”

“Then definitely not,” Dev went on, his smile becoming easier, his weight shifting to let his hip jut out to his left. Karlan’s eyes flicked downward. Oh? “She’d probably help if she knew what you were looking for.”

“Oh, no need to bother her, I’m sure she’s busy,” Karlan said hurriedly. “I think I found a good one, I was just… have you taken her class on Libaniran History?”

“Private lessons on that for me,” Dev admitted. “I only got to take the national history courses with the rest of the class. I need to memorize a lot more than the average student.” A roll of his eyes made Karlan chuckle. His voice wasn’t deep but his laugh was oddly. Nicely. Dev found his smile widen at the sound. Karlan’s neck was turning rosy, too. “Homework on a weekend night? Do you like the subject?”

“I thought the library might be empty and…” he paused, looking down, twisting his hands together sheepishly. “…Nowhere to go tonight.”

“Welch not having his usual?” Dev asked.

“I shouldn’t…” Karlan murmured. The sentence kept going, but too mumbled and quiet for Dev to make it out. He sat down on Nehemiah’s chair, waving Karlan to Pickett’s.

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s nothing, really. It’s been three weeks,” Karlan replied. He did take the seat however, sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, still not meeting Dev’s eyes. He had large, broad hands, with thick fingers that looked strong and sturdy. Dev smiled at them absently, trying to keep his thoughts clean. “I should be over it by now.”

“Girl problems?” Dev guessed. Karlan looked up without raising his head, giving a quiet sigh.

“Bet you don’t have any of those, do you,” he said.

“Not really,” admitted Dev. “But boys aren’t as different as we pretend we are.”

Karlan started to say something, but paused before any of the words came out. His brow creased as his eyes flicked from Dev to his lap, back shyly to Dev, then to his lap again, his mouth hanging open the whole time. Dev let him work it out. Eventually he came up with “Oh.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know,” Dev said. “Most people seem to these days.”

“I hadn’t… a prince you know, I just thought… that was sort of dumb of me, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t worry about it. No offense taken. Want to talk about things anyway?”

Karlan was silent for a minute, but his lips moved, so Dev waited. He knew the playing field now, knew that this golden boy wasn’t going to come to bed with him any time soon. But he could be a friend. Friends were always a good idea, especially the sort that read history books for pleasure.

“How did you know?”

“Know?” Dev asked, uncertain in his interrupted thoughts if he’d missed something.

“That… Boys… How did you know you like boys?”

Dev felt his jaw drop an inch, his head tilt a little. He tried to correct it, not wanting to embarrass Karlan, but couldn’t immediately decide on an answer. The pink was creeping up into Karlan’s cheeks again.

“I just… always found boys pretty. Nicer to look at. You’re attracted to the sorts of people you enjoy looking at. I… I never questioned it, I guess.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Karlan told his lap. “To just know like that… I’m never certain, even when I’m dating someone. What if I don’t actually like them? What if I just want to think they’re pretty because they think I am, or because they like the same thing I do, or… I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to know right away,” Dev said, as assuredly as he could manage, having never even considered this as an issue before. “That… that’s the point of dating, right? To see if you like each other well enough to have a long-term relationship.”

“Have you dated a lot of people?” Karlan asked. He didn’t think so, really, but he suddenly wasn’t sure so he just shrugged. “Any girls?”

“Never,” Dev grinned. “Closest thing I’ll ever have to a girlfriend is Nottie Thompson, and she’s much closer to a sister.”

“Have you ever been curious about girls?”

“I’ve heard the sex feels good,” Dev said with another shrug, grinning at the way Karlan’s eyes went wide and jaw slackened a little. “But it’s always felt fine to me, so I can’t say if I’m missing out on much.”

“But their… boys don’t have… have…” Karlan lifted his hands cupped to his chest.

“No, but I like muscles and they have those. And cocks,” Dev said, laughing at the way Karlan’s elbow slid off of his knee in shock. “I like cocks. I hear girls don’t have those.”

“Wait, but… what do you… have you been…” he gulped as Dev started to chuckle again. It was hard not to. Bright blue eyes, golden curls becoming tangled and askew from they way Karlan kept running his fingers through them, the flush was all over his face now and - yes, he just crossed his legs.

“Yes, I’ve had head. Given it, too.”

“You like it?” Karlan asked breathlessly.

“You interested?”

It was too blunt, but Dev thought he could get away with it if his grin was cocky enough, his tone mistakable for sarcasm. But Karlan was apparently incapable of jokes tonight. He looked around quickly at the books, the chairs, the narrow space between the cedar shelves.

“Not in here?” He whispered.

“What? No!” Dev laughed. “Shit no, I’d never be able to face any of them again, would I? Caught having sex in the library, Smedley would murder me!”

Karlan let out a relieved sigh, but it didn’t take the tension from his shoulders, nor did he uncross his legs. Dev gave him a moment to see if he would ask any more, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to do it. What was the worst that could happen?

“Did you need help carrying back any books?”

“I’ve only got…” Dev waited. Karlan’s eyes went slightly wider once more as he trailed off, realizing what might be happening. “Are… are….” Wait for it. “You certain?”

“It’s not far. I’d be happy to help,” Dev said, standing up easily, hands resting on his waist, hips askew. Karlan’s eyes lingered a little too far down, took their time coming up to meet his.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

It was one book. Dev carried it at his side, letting it bump his hip in time as they walked back to the Academy dorms. Karlan opened his door hesitantly, trying to excuse the laundry and books all over the floor. Dev lied that his room was just as messy. It sometimes was. He leaned gently against the door to shut it behind them. He laid the book on top of the mess of papers covering the small desk by the door, while Karlan sat down on the bed, took off his shoes, and crossed his legs again.

“Um,” Karlan started, adorably uncertain of where to look and what to do.

“Can I join you?” Dev offered.

“Oh! Yes, here.” He shuffled sideways to make room, patting flat the rumply quilted bedcovers. Dev decided to lounge, sprawling his legs in front of him. He put his hand purposefully on Karlan’s, holding tight to the comforter, locking their fingers.

“This good?”

“What…” Karlan’s voice was breathy, his hand was shaking, his knees shifting around on the bed, legs crossing, uncrossing, and he refused to meet Dev’s eyes while Dev grinned at him. “What do you… do we…”

Leading him into it by talking would take too long. Instead, Dev put a hand in those beautiful golden curls and pulled his head over. Well he did know how to kiss at least. Dev had missed this feeling, this form of play. Karlan had left his mouth open, so Dev pulled his tongue across the teeth there, tapped the tongue inside with his own. When he paused, the favor was returned, and he sucked gently, teasing what could happen next. When they need to breathe, he whispered, “Not so different, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Karlan replied, smiling, still breathy. “It’s good.”

Playing with the softest hair at the base of Karlan’s neck, Dev moved his mouth down, kissing Karlan’s flushed neck, tasting salty sweat that was warm and fresh, smelling like sex already, gently, because that pale neck would bruise, the blood already pumping so hard, so close to the skin on the other side. Karlan was squirming delightfully under his hands, moaning and whimpering, his legs quivering and opening for Dev to slide his fingers down the pants between them.

“Oh yes!”

Karlan lost his balance and tipped over, landing splayed, spread for Dev’s perusal on the bed, still gripping the bedcovers with twitching, solid fingers. He didn’t feel very big between the legs. Maybe he could be convinced to stick three of those up in Dev instead. At a flick of Dev’s thumb, the large hands, pink and flushed and raw as the rest of him, dove for his trousers, undoing the clasp so Dev could pull them down.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Short, but thick. That would be good after all. Oh yes, Dev would love that throbbing in his ass once he’d slicked it down with his mouth. He pulled his thumb along the underside to the straining skin below.

“OH!”

It was lucky the stuff didn’t get in his eyes, Dev guessed, but it was on his shirt and in his hair and already turning cold and sticky on the side of his face, while Karlan heaved breaths, toppling down from his high. Disappointed, Dev sat back on his heels, pretty sure he wasn’t getting any tonight after all.

“That was… that… yeah…” Karlan told the ceiling. “Yeah…” and his eyes closed.

Dev left after rubbing his face on a shirt he found on the floor that didn’t appear too stained. He was pretty sure he made it out the door without waking Karlan. At least in the bath later that night, Dev rubbed himself off to the most beautiful golden curls, still able to feel their softness between his fingers if he closed his eyes.

Sex was somewhat important.  
  



	5. Brenden the Big-Man

Well, that one was pretty self-explanatory. It’s not like Brenden had anything else to offer. One night was all Dev needed to remember that size wasn’t anything much if you didn’t know what to do with it.


	6. Wyatt the "Why-the-Fuck-Did-I-Do-That?"

Wyatt was well known to be the worst sort of know-it-all: the sort that didn’t actually know much of anything. Wyatt was also not very good looking, with dank brown hair that fell too long and was washed too infrequently, and the squinty sort of face that always had the expression of a disgruntled cat. He was shorter than Dev by several inches, too skinny to be hiding much muscle, and tired easily from walking from one side of the academy to the other. However, Wyatt was there, Wyatt was interested, and Dev was desperate. 

It was his own voice in his head saying he’d regret this one. Nottie chose not to acknowledge that anything was happening. 

They rubbed each other down, tipsy when they were both technically not supposed to be, just before dawn in Wyatt’s dorm room. It was good enough. The next week, Dev sucked him off, and he returned the favor with decent skill. The week after that, Dev went to Harvest Festival at Lakepost, and tried his best to see if anyone - _anyone_ \- there might be interested and better than what he had in Kingston. Though the festival was fun as usual, he went to bed alone and clothed and thoroughly disappointed. 

Back in Kingston the next morning, Dev threw himself into studying, trying to take his mind off of his desperation. He translated four old letters that Nehemiah had given him, wrote a full report on the ongoing tensions between Eastern and Central Libanira for Pickett, and was pouring over a royal genealogy manuscript when his productivity was interrupted.

“What’s that for?”

“Hello,” Dev retorted first. “Private work for private lessons.” He closed the book and set it aside. “Looking for something in particular?”

“Didn’t see you last night,” Wyatt answered, mimicking Dev’s clipped tone with a wicked glint in his eyes. “I got naked and everything.”

“Harvest Fest,” Dev said. When Wyatt didn’t respond, he raised his eyebrows and continued, “National Holiday, family celebrations, most people have heard of it.”

“It’s just you and your father, though, right? You both live here.”

“We go to Lakepost.” This seemed to answer Wyatt’s questions appropriately. He nodded to himself a moment, his gaze on his shoes, then sat down beside Dev in Nora’s chair. Dev bit his tongue to keep from saying anything. 

“Thompson?”

“She’s in Portown till tomorrow,” Dev answered. “Same reason.”

“Is everyone gone?”

“The Advisors are pretty scattered at the moment. Randolph’s still in Lakepost. Don’t know where the Smedleys went this year. They move around. Sudapor maybe? That or they’re all in Southside today. I think Dad’s with them.”

“So we’re the only ones here?” 

Dev paused before answering, knowing full well where this was headed, uncertain if it was a joke. Wyatt did have a fantastic wicked grin, the sort that built Dev’s groin even as it dropped his stomach.

“No…”

“Who’s going to walk in on us?” Wyatt teased.

“Not in the library, not—”

“Why not? Plenty of room and plenty of corners,” Wyatt replied, scanning the shelves, patting his lap.

“Not in Advisor Smedley’s chair.”

This made Wyatt pause a moment, frowning. “Which one?”

“The one that will set us both on fire when she finds out,” Dev snapped, standing up quickly. Wyatt leapt from his seat, too, with the sort of jolt that made Dev wonder if he’d been set on fire before. Dev picked up the genealogy manuscript and put it away while Wyatt continued to look around, his sight flicking back towards the north side, where a small door divided the library in two.

“What about—?”

“No,” Dev said before the words could even leave his mouth. “Not in there. Not with the spells. That’s dangerous.”

“I thought you liked some danger,” Wyatt smirked. “How about upstairs? No one will be there.”

Dev didn’t have a real argument against this, at least not in terms of why it would be a bad idea. It didn’t really feel like a good one, but there was no explicit problem. Wyatt took a step toward him, brushed fingertips along Dev’s pants. Fuck.

“Go on, then,” Dev said with a sigh, stepping around Wyatt’s hand, out of his reach. “You know the way as well as I do.”

Wyatt managed to grab his hand and get them both jogging through the shelves. Halfway up the stairs, he turned around so suddenly that Dev tripped over him, only just catching himself before crashing to the sharp wood steps. In his unbalanced state, Wyatt pulled at his shirt and sucked on his neck, grabbing his ass as he straightened. Dev wasn’t wholly sure he liked it on an emotional level, but physically it felt good, and he was definitely getting hard as they tumbled upwards together. Wyatt’s hands were at his Dev’s trousers by the time they’d reached the top step, and had them unbuttoned a few steps after. Starting to feel that the public location might be a bad idea after all, Dev turned down the first aisle they came to, stopping when it ended in a small alcove with a plush chair and… fuck, a window.   
But Dev’s pants were suddenly around his knees, and Wyatt’s fingers were around his cock, his mouth at Dev’s neck, sucking, pressing, biting again. That’s why he kept doing this. It felt fucking good. Wyatt’s hands fumbled, dropping their hold, what was…?

“Cold!” Dev hissed.

“It’ll warm up in a second,” was the reply. It was already starting to, but that had been the first protest that Dev could come up with for the thin ring of what felt like metal that had just been pushed up around him as he hardened. He tried to reach for it, at least see what the purpose of it was, but Wyatt gave a pull between his legs and a push on his knees, and Dev had to grab onto the chair for support.

“What… what…?” he panted.

“It’s so you’ll last longer,” Wyatt said, his fingers wrapping around Dev, playing, teasing, from between his legs, behind. “Wanna spread for me?”

Not really, but also yes. He leaned forward over the arm of the chair so he could see out the window, pushing his knees as far apart as his trousers would let them go. Wyatt rubbed him slick with sweat, saliva, spill, then pushed in so hard that Dev recoiled a little from the pressure of it.

“What—?”

CRACK

His ass stinging, Dev’s words died of shock in his throat, replaced by something halfway between a choke and a moan. Wyatt was rubbing the slapped skin, warm and tender. He started to ask what the fuck Wyatt thought he was doing, but stopped before he’d decided on the phrasing. It was plenty clear. He was throbbing from that slap, if the metal ring hadn’t been… oh. Well, that made sense. Warning would have been nicer, but this was Wyatt, so—

CRACK

Dev hissed at the pain, at the way it made all the muscles contract around Wyatt in him, push into the metal around him, cursing how shitting good it felt. If someone he actually liked wanted to do this, he’d have been all for it. Crack - a shudder - Crack - a twitch - Crack - Dev was definitely going to bruise from this, but Wyatt rubbed the spot gently, massaged skin and muscle until it no longer stung each time. His left hand kneaded Dev’s hip, helping to guide it up so he could push himself further up into Dev’s ass. Dev lost track of the number of hits, the sex itself going on for longer - much longer - than he was used to it lasting. It was kind of great, though, in that he didn’t think he’d felt this high off of the sensation in ages, maybe ever. With one last smack, Dev felt the warm push of Wyatt spilling in him, felt it in the way fingers clenched, heard it when his voice broke. Dev thought it might end there, with the limp penis sliding out of him, but Wyatt had other plans. Panting shallow, high-pitched breaths, Wyatt pulled at Dev’s shoulders until he turned around, still hard, expecting Wyatt to drop to his knees to finish Dev off in the usual way. Instead, when he was fully around, Wyatt took one look at him, upright, twitching, covered in sweat, and shoved him backwards. The backs of Dev’s knees gave when they connected with the arm of the chair, and he toppled into it, sprawled sideways on the seat. Before Dev could reposition, Wyatt had his fingers on him again, the other hand opening his tunic.

“It’ll be faster if—“ Dev started.

“I don’t want it faster.”

Another person using those words might have sounded caring, implied that they wanted Dev to really enjoy himself. He was really enjoying himself. Those fingers felt fabulous and he kept feeling like he was just on the edge of spilling, of release when they took him a little higher. But a small nagging voice in the back of Dev’s head, nearly silenced by the pounding of his heart and his cock, whispered, “He just wants to see you squirm.”

He felt a sharp pinch on his chest and his hips bucked upward, still not releasing, still a little higher.

Dev whispered back at the voice in his head, “So what.”

Fingers pinching, pulling, pressing, pushing into his mouth, wet from his own spill, when he finally lost it, it was with a spurt and a shout that he hadn’t meant to give. His whole body felt tingly and numb. None of the muscles were working right, especially from the still awkward position on the chair. Wyatt slid the metal ring off of him with cool hands, then slid his fingers across Dev’s throat, sticky wet with Dev’s release on them. 

“See you next week, yeah?”

Dev didn’t answer aloud. When Wyatt had sauntered out of sight, and Dev’s body was working again, he thought, “Fuck no. I can do that on my own. And I fucking will.”  
  



	7. David the Dumbbell

Getting rid of Wyatt took getting into some sort of steady, stable relationship. Dev was more than ready for one of those, but was still having difficulty finding someone he wanted to date. Eventually, he settled on David.

David was tall and muscular, with enough strength to pick Dev up for short periods of time. He had a large head of fluffy chestnut hair, and Dev was extra pleased to find that the carpet matched the drapes. But for all David’s size and strength, which were fantastic in every imaginable way, he was gentle. He was simple. He was a sort of human horse in that his strength meant Dev could ride him for hours, and he never complained. He didn’t actually say much of anything beyond, “yeah”, or “sure”, or “I guess not?” But he had big strong arms, and was happy to cuddle. He had a big, strong cock and was happy to fuck. It didn’t seem to make much difference how, and he was always smiling affably at the end. He was well-liked enough to bring to parties, but genial and unaware enough to not care that Dev never took him anywhere where the royalty would be present. Pickett knew, of course, probably more than she really should have. Nora spoke for the rest of them when she made it quite clear that she didn’t want to know a damn thing about it unless she absolutely had to for political reasons. That Dev didn’t bring him to the official Springstart dance, instead taking his usual place with Nottie, told them all that this would be temporary. But it was comfortable.

When the end of the academic year rolled around and reports were all turned in, David came to visit late at night after the graduation ceremony. Dev talked him into walking to the gardens to chat in the pleasant evening air. He led them to a secluded bench behind a wall of very tall hedge and sat down on the navy cushions there. David looked around in simple admiration for a few minutes. Dev didn’t have anything to say, really, so he waited, comfortable in the familiar scenery and warm summer evening. 

“What now?”

“Sorry?” Dev asked, not sure what David was referring to.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Dev blinked a little, glad for the low lighting that could hide his face.

“I want… you to do what’s best for you,” Dev answered honestly. “Did you get an offer somewhere?”

“My family wants me to come home. Evina. I’d work for the family business there. Landscaping.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Dev asked. He thought he could see David smiling, but it was hard to tell, and he couldn’t be wholly sure what that would mean anyway. Maybe he wasn’t as dumb as he made out to be.

“I like the rocks in Evina. And the sea feels different there. It’s tougher. I like that. I think I should go back. But I wanted to be sure that you didn’t have other plans.”

“I’m not going to plan your life for you,” Dev said, chuckling. 

“You’re royalty,” David answered.

“Not like that.”

There was a moment of quiet while Dev wondered with some horror what had given David the idea that Dev wanted to control his life. 

“It’s okay then? I can go back?”

“You should do whatever you want to do,” Dev repeated, trying his best to make sure his words sounded suggestive and not commanding, which suddenly seemed very important. 

“Okay.” There was another moment in which neither of them moved. The air was less comfortable now, even with that talk settled. “What about the sex?”

“Look, don’t worry about me,” Dev hurried to answer. “It’s been fun. It’s been good to have you around, honestly, but I’ll move on. Are you upset?”

“I guess not,” David said. “Should I be? Leaving a prince?”

“Nah,” Dev said assuredly. “I’m no prize for you. You can do better.”

“You think so?”

“You can be with someone in Evina,” Dev answered. David smiled at this thought.

“Maybe a girl,” he said by way of answer. Dev leaned forward, tilting his head to the side in mild confusion.

“You like girls?”

David shrugged. “Yeah. They’re pretty.”

“Do you like boys?” Dev asked, chuckling again.

“If they’re pretty.”

Did you like me was on the tip of Dev’s tongue, but he swallowed it, deciding he didn’t want to know, and the smile on David’s face probably meant “well enough.”

“Would you like sex?”

The bluntness of the question caught Dev off-guard, even though it was how David usually brought up the subject. He started laughing, trying to quiet himself politely.

“Only— only if you want to,” he managed after a couple of breaths. “You’re good, and it’s fun, but I don’t want to make you do anything.”

“You’re pretty,” David said. The moment of quiet was comfortable again.

“All right.”

Nothing about David’s demeanor changed after that conversation, but Dev made a conscious effort to be sweeter, gentler. He helped them both strip completely naked, something he didn’t usually do, then knelt between David’s strong thighs to kiss him between the legs, lick him down, suck him until he shuddered into Dev’s mouth. They rolled onto the grass together, Dev on his back, looking up at the stars while David rubbed him, kissed him in return, swallowed what he spilled. Both sated, they lay side by side, Dev’s head resting on David’s arm.

“Does that feel good for you?”

David paused to think, as he often had to.

“I like being hit. Like you do sometimes, on the rear. I think, when I marry, I’ll ask my wife to do that. Do you think she will?”

“I think she’ll love it,” Dev said, laughing easily again. “You’ll be good for her. Whoever she is.”

They fell asleep like that, under the stars, and parted with a fully-clothed hug in the morning.


End file.
